Okay, it’s time to figure out what I am supposed to do with myself. I’d like to have this decided for the rest of my life, but perhaps that is not realistic. So, let’s concentrate on what I can do with myself for the near future.
I am about to have a birthday, and if you had told me when I was young what I would be doing with myself at this stage of my life, I would have been disappointed. A corporate job? A meaningless corporate drone position? Seriously? Okay, I kinda knew that I would not really ever become a rock star (much more musical talent would be required), but to just sit and write procedures that no one will ever read for a living? (It’s true – I am writing high-level procedures for a new software application, and I have recently learned that those procedures will serve no real purpose. The employees will use the training materials someone else is writing. Why didn’t we just start with the training materials?) Bah. Corporate Land.
So, why am I here? Money. Believe me, if I weren’t getting paid, I sure wouldn’t be here. I certainly am not getting intellectual stimulation, amusment, or any other benefit sitting here tapping away on the company-issued laptop. The free coffee isn’t enough to get me to drive from Northern Dakota county to darn near Wayzata each morning.
I know myself: I am too lazy to be left on my own. I need an employer to get myself going each day. Otherwise, I am not entirely sure I’d get up at all. My greatest talent is sleeping. If I could get paid for that, I’d do okay. Not great, but okay. Sure, I’d get up for the dog – he needs exercise and he’s worth getting up for. But even he spends most of his day sleeping (lucky dog!).
I need to get moving. I need to find a better fit for my skills. Corporate blah is not doing it for me, and I knew it wouldn’t. I’d take a decent pay cut for a more meaningful position. But I do need an employer. Otherwise, I’d still be in bed!
Monday, July 22, 2013
Friday, July 19, 2013
I never knew love like this before
I love animals. Always have. I have been primarily a cat person all of my life, but about ten years ago, something changed. Oh, I still love cats and I don’t think I’ll ever not have at least one cat with me for the rest of my life. But ten years ago The Husband and I went to a local humane society and got ourselves a puppy. We learned of this puppy through petfinder.com, a great way to find your next best friend.
If you’ve read this blog, you probably know about Pepper. I admit I was nervous – I had never owned a dog before. I knew they were more work than cats. I knew I had a lot to learn. I wasn’t sure how to get the dog to let me know when he needs to go outside (turns out you just let the dog out and he’ll take care of business – at least that’s how it is with Pep).
When Pepper was young, I learned that we needed to keep plenty of appropriate things for him to chew on handy. Our living room coffee table is not one of those appropriate things, but the teeth marks are still there. Fortunately, that was the worst damage we’ve had from his puppy years. We crate-trained him, took him to Puppy Kindergarten, lost him many times in the woods behind our house, and got him to sit, stay, come, and lay down.
He gained ten pounds a month for six months. His first bath was in one of the kitchen sinks. His second bath was in both kitchen sinks. He quickly moved up to the bathtub. He has been around 80 pounds for most of his life – a perfect weight for his body.
As Pepper got older, we all got into a routine: walks, park visits, the occasional hike, visiting his human grandparents (he gets excited when he hears the words “grandma” and “grandpa”), and playing with his girlfriend, Suzy.
When Pepper turned seven years old, I told him that I wanted another seven years. He seemed to understand. (Okay, no he didn’t. I just want to think he did.) The point is that I was realizing that he was aging, and that dogs don’t live as long as we may want them to. By this time I had grown quite attached to this beautiful creature living with me. The bond we formed together surprised me. I knew I would like having a dog, but I am blown away by how much he matters to me.
I am his Mama. When he gets hurt, he goes to his Mama. I have bandaged him, taken thorns out of his paws, washed him when he had a run-in with a skunk, and cuddled him when he needed love. The Husband (aka Daddy) is the main playmate, but I am the main caregiver.
He has changed my life. Profoundly.
I see love in his gorgeous brown eyes. I see love when he thwaps his tail on the floor when I approach him, as if to say, “Snuggle with me, Mama.” (How can I resist?)
He’s almost ten and a half years old. That makes him an old dog – about 75 years old in human terms. And, for a little over a year, he has been dealing with anxiety and the occasional panic attack. It breaks my heart to see him panting, pacing, and lost. We’ve brought him to the vet, got him on medications (daily and as needed), and got him a Thundershirt to give him some support when he’s feeling shaky.
I would do anything to take his anxiety away. I’d gladly take it on myself. I get angry at flies and mosquitoes for having the nerve to bother my baby – I certainly don’t want my sweetie bothered by any unease or discomfort from within his own body.
He still has more good moments than not-so-good. When he’s outside, he romps and sniffs and plays like usual, although perhaps a little more slowly than he used to. He loves his yew bushes. He walks into the bushes and gets a coniferous massage and back scratching.
The Husband and I do what we’ve got to do to keep Pepper happy (or at least okay). He is so incredibly worth it. That love in his eyes makes it easy to want to do anything and everything for him.
He’s my baby. I love my Pepper Dog!
If you’ve read this blog, you probably know about Pepper. I admit I was nervous – I had never owned a dog before. I knew they were more work than cats. I knew I had a lot to learn. I wasn’t sure how to get the dog to let me know when he needs to go outside (turns out you just let the dog out and he’ll take care of business – at least that’s how it is with Pep).
When Pepper was young, I learned that we needed to keep plenty of appropriate things for him to chew on handy. Our living room coffee table is not one of those appropriate things, but the teeth marks are still there. Fortunately, that was the worst damage we’ve had from his puppy years. We crate-trained him, took him to Puppy Kindergarten, lost him many times in the woods behind our house, and got him to sit, stay, come, and lay down.
He gained ten pounds a month for six months. His first bath was in one of the kitchen sinks. His second bath was in both kitchen sinks. He quickly moved up to the bathtub. He has been around 80 pounds for most of his life – a perfect weight for his body.
As Pepper got older, we all got into a routine: walks, park visits, the occasional hike, visiting his human grandparents (he gets excited when he hears the words “grandma” and “grandpa”), and playing with his girlfriend, Suzy.
When Pepper turned seven years old, I told him that I wanted another seven years. He seemed to understand. (Okay, no he didn’t. I just want to think he did.) The point is that I was realizing that he was aging, and that dogs don’t live as long as we may want them to. By this time I had grown quite attached to this beautiful creature living with me. The bond we formed together surprised me. I knew I would like having a dog, but I am blown away by how much he matters to me.
I am his Mama. When he gets hurt, he goes to his Mama. I have bandaged him, taken thorns out of his paws, washed him when he had a run-in with a skunk, and cuddled him when he needed love. The Husband (aka Daddy) is the main playmate, but I am the main caregiver.
He has changed my life. Profoundly.
I see love in his gorgeous brown eyes. I see love when he thwaps his tail on the floor when I approach him, as if to say, “Snuggle with me, Mama.” (How can I resist?)
He’s almost ten and a half years old. That makes him an old dog – about 75 years old in human terms. And, for a little over a year, he has been dealing with anxiety and the occasional panic attack. It breaks my heart to see him panting, pacing, and lost. We’ve brought him to the vet, got him on medications (daily and as needed), and got him a Thundershirt to give him some support when he’s feeling shaky.
I would do anything to take his anxiety away. I’d gladly take it on myself. I get angry at flies and mosquitoes for having the nerve to bother my baby – I certainly don’t want my sweetie bothered by any unease or discomfort from within his own body.
He still has more good moments than not-so-good. When he’s outside, he romps and sniffs and plays like usual, although perhaps a little more slowly than he used to. He loves his yew bushes. He walks into the bushes and gets a coniferous massage and back scratching.
The Husband and I do what we’ve got to do to keep Pepper happy (or at least okay). He is so incredibly worth it. That love in his eyes makes it easy to want to do anything and everything for him.
He’s my baby. I love my Pepper Dog!
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Is it pain or is it withdrawal?
I suppose it's a bit of both. I got brave and went to work without my Vicodin. I took my second dose of Humira on Monday, and I am trying to be hopeful that this will take away the pain (this and the methotrexate I take on Thursdays). So, today I just felt a little weird along with the joint soreness. I took the dog for a walk after work and now I feel a little weirder... but resolute in my decision not to take any Vicodin today. I am going to try this again tomorrow - I need to remember to bring more ibuprofen to work!!
Three of my knuckles on my right hand hurt. The Husband told me to stop punching people at work so my hand won't hurt as much (he's so funny, ain't he?).
I do need to stop typing this post before I punch my computer. It's so old and slow, it makes me feel like an Olympic athlete by comparison!
Friday, July 05, 2013
CarePages - Quest4Diagnosis
I've had a blog on CarePages (from the Mayo Clinic) titled Quest4Diagnosis that I have used to chronicle my journey from being in pain and stumping doctors in the Twin Cities to going to the Mayo Clinic and having all sorts of fun tests done to finally arrive at a diagnosis of rheumatoid arthritis (RA).
I have not been a very regular poster on either of my blogs, so I decided to continue with this one (Collette's Place) and discontinue posting to the CarePages blog. That means that I will be posting my adventures with RA on this blog (as well as other thoughts and ponderings I come up with).
If you came here from my CarePages site, welcome to Collette's Place! As you can see, I've been on this blog for a while longer. Thank you, thank you, thank you for all of your support! I certainly have felt the love through cyberspace, and it is a wonderful feeling.
Here's to sharing life and tackling its curve balls together!
Take care of yourselves,
Collette (Yes, this is a pseudonym.)
I have not been a very regular poster on either of my blogs, so I decided to continue with this one (Collette's Place) and discontinue posting to the CarePages blog. That means that I will be posting my adventures with RA on this blog (as well as other thoughts and ponderings I come up with).
If you came here from my CarePages site, welcome to Collette's Place! As you can see, I've been on this blog for a while longer. Thank you, thank you, thank you for all of your support! I certainly have felt the love through cyberspace, and it is a wonderful feeling.
Here's to sharing life and tackling its curve balls together!
Take care of yourselves,
Collette (Yes, this is a pseudonym.)
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